That's How The Cookie Crumbles
by dave-d
Summary: A lunch with good friends, what could go wrong? Kurz Weber could go wrong! Just how far would Kurz go to get a victory, any victory large or small? And, what would it mean for Sousuke, Kaname, Tessa, and Mao?


Having watched episodes of _Invisible Victory_ recently, I felt the urge to return to the fold myself.

Be forewarned, this story does contain occasional spoilers from the end of the novels. Also, it may prove tedious for some, especially those who prefer short easy-to-digest episodes. This is in effect one very lengthy chapter.

There is no adventure, no action scenes. There is no romance, or much character progression. It is a day-in-the life type of tale, just a chance to spend some more time with a merry band of misfits.

In the end, the pay-off might not be worth the effort. However, for those who are more concerned with journeys than with destinations, you might be able to finds some grains of wheat amongst the chaff.

Oh. And like we see for more than one character in this story, old habits die hard. That means that this story has extraneous info, quotes, historical points, a fable, and references to mythology. Not to mention, some coarse and foul language (it _does_ have Kurz and Mao, after all), some of it taken from Senior Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Hartman of _Full Metal Jacket._

God bless all FMP Fan Fiction readers, old and new.

Note: there is no lemon. The 'M' rating is because of the rough language.

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 _On some warm summer day, in the well-lit but muggy confines of a vast concrete bunker, located on a scenic island that does not show up on maps and has been covertly erased from GPS dictionaries, a messy-haired young man held an unusual conversation with an unordinary companion._

"Sergeant, why have you forgotten to add the Seward Arsenal 165mm multipurpose demolition gun and howitzer?" The words were human, but the speaker was not.

"I have forgotten nothing," the young man responded curtly, sounding close to being exasperated. This was not the first question he had answered from the verbose mechanical unit hanging from a sturdy hoist, wires and conduits hanging down from it like some nightmare Rasta hairdo. "This time _I_ am the one designing the arm slave… not you…."

"You have not answered the question," the artificial intelligence stated, causing the flickering lights adjacent to its data ports to blink and move in a rhythm syncopated to its voice. "I find that to be a very annoying habit of yours, Sergeant…"

"That-" The young man paused, nearly biting his tongue in the process. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, sounding like a snake that had been poked one time too many. He counted to ten before continuing, having been down this road many times before. If there was anyone with a bad habit, it was the loquacious A.I.

"There are only so many weapons that can be carried, the young man continued. "The Geotron Electronics GRAW-4 Monomolecular Cutter… OTO Melara 5 inch Smoothbore Cannon… GAU-19S 12.7mm Gatling Guns… and Royal Ordinance M1108 Anti-Tank Dagger are givens. We will agree on that-" He paused, thankfully hearing no dissent. "While the S.A. 165mm proved effective, I see greater value in the BAE Systems Zumwalt electromagnetic railgun."

"Why? What is the source of your conviction?" The A.I.'s voice was steady and nuanced. An observer unfamiliar with the machine might mistakenly hear a touch of petulance. That particular tone of voice had not existed when he had been part of the ARX-7 and ARX-8.

"A number of reasons-" The young man held up one fist. He elevated a single finger." _One_ … practicality." He heard the machine make a sigh-like sound. They had discussed the concept of practicality many times in the past. Many times. "The High Velocity Projectile of the ERG can also be fired by the 5 inch gun. Ammunition is simple to come by, as the U.S. Navy has mounted the gun on its destroyers, and the Army is working on a smaller compatible rail gun for their future tank. And, our new Ross & Humbleton PRX4000 Palladium Reactor has more than enough electrical output." He went back to scribbling thoughts in a notebook, before they could scatter like a flock of startled birds.

"What is number two?" The A.I. asked. "If you are going to list something as a number one, there should at least be a number two." The lights on its flanks went dark, blinked once, and then resumed their normal operation. "My pardon, but I require completion of an incomplete data point. Kurz Weber previously told Melissa Mao that he had the number one male model body… and she told him that he was actually the number two in male bodily functions. What does-" It was interrupted.

"Find the answer yourself," Sousuke Sagara snapped. Although Al the A.I. was genius in intellect, his curiosity and lack of fundamental knowledge could make it more vexing than a small child. "Google it! Google has _everything_ …" He broke the tip pf his pencil off… cursed… and opened a nearby drawer to hunt for a spiffy new and official Mythril pencil sharpener. He cursed again. One of the mercenary mechanics had 'borrowed' the item. The poorly-motivated grease monkey had taken to tossing pencils at a 3D-printed bust of Commander Mardukas. The originally hairless and rubberized bust currently looked like a porcupine or 70s punk rocker.

"Question," Al voiced. "Are you attempting product placement? Has Mithril entered an understanding with the American company? For profit? Or because they share similar criticisms… involving issues such as privacy concerns… tax avoidance… antitrust… censorship.. intellectual bias." There was brief pause, and then a continuance. "Or, is it because both entities share a common official saying: 'do the right thing'." After a search on Google itself, which for Al took less than a millisecond, the device added "And the two also share an unofficial motto" 'do no evil'." Another pause. Hearing no reply, the A.I. clarified. "Google search is not the only web search engine. There are also Baidu… Bing… DuckDuckGo… Ecosia…"

"You are interrupting my cognitive processes-" Sousuke clenched his teeth. That was Al's terminology. With a louder but not shriller voice, he said "You are distracting me." To himself, he muttered "Could _anything_ possibly be more annoying?"

Before the quick-witted machine could reply, a distant door of the hangar-like facility closed with a loud metallic b-a-n-g. A faint patter of footsteps was accompanied by off-key whistling, a bawdy tune that neither man nor machine recognized. The sounds grew louder.

"It's-" Al was cut off.

"I know!" Sousuke answered sharply. He knew what could be more annoying. Just his luck.

"He's bringing-" The A.I. had used it's newly assembled olfactory device to pick up a scent. It had better sense of smell than any living creature, and thankfully had not yet begun commenting on the difference in Sousuke's bodily odors during various physical conditions.

"I can guess!" Sousuke's stomach rumbled. He raised one eyebrow. Maybe his fellow soldier's visit this time would be fortuitous. Usually, Kurz showed up with bags of smuggled lunches or dinners _after_ Sousuke had already eaten his fill for the day.

"Sousuke my boy, I bring great treasure." Kurz was on a treasure kick. Everything _was treasure this_ or _treasure that_ , after he had been told about the legend of pirate's gold buried on the island, from the tongue of an old Mithril seadog. The lanky mercenary had even put in a request to have a metal detector added to his M9, claiming falsely that it was because he wanted to sweep the beaches for possible WWII vintage mines. "One of the C17 boys flew me and this culinary gold back from The States." He held up two enormous plastic bags, each wrapped around slightly smaller paper sacks. "Straight from 101 Noodle Express in Alhambra, California. Just outside of L.A. Oh yeh!" He waited for some kind of enthusiastic response. The only sound breaking the silence was the lonely the chirp of the only cricket that had not fallen prey to the base pesticides.

Al hummed to himself. Sousuke worked at sharpening his pencil with a combat knife.

"You know," Kurz said in a voice part plaintive and part incredulous. "Famous for their Shandong beef roll. King of northern Chinese meat, dumpling and noodle dishes…."

Al began a series of diagnostic checks. A silent Sousuke decided to sharpen _all_ of the pencils in the drawer. There were ten unopened packs, each with thirty pencils.

" _Well-lll-ll-l_ … we'll see how long you can ignore God's gift to men after he unpacks _these_ goodies…" Kurz opened the first bag.

"Oh… is Lt. Commander Miller-Heidke here?" That quip came from Melissa Mao, fresh in from a covert conference in Milan. She had left her luggage on the tarmac, in the hands of a frightened and fuzzy-cheeked airman. The only thing she carried was a case of imported beer, open at one end. A lit and somewhat bent cigarette perched precariously between her lips, dropping ashes on her camo shirt.

"Funny. Very funny." Kurz thought about flipping his teammate the bird, but did _not_ want another broken finger. "Keep it up, and you won't get any of these goodies…." He began placing cartons of food on a workbench, after flippantly brushing engineering plans and small electronics parts onto the cracked cement floor. "From the noodles category…" He tore open the first carton. A delicious and delicate odor wafted upward and outward. Sousuke stopped his sharpening. Mao stopped mid-gulp, beer dripping from the corner of her mouth. Vent fans sounded as Al sampled the scents.

"Dan Dan noodles…" Kurz began removing and opening more containers. "Pig Feet noodles… Beef and Bean Tendon noodles… Lamb Soup noodles…." After naming a dozen more noodle dishes, he popped open some plastic containers.

"If there's anything made with booze, it's mine." Lieutenant Mao's claimes went unchallenged.

" _I_ had some beer today-" Kurz gave his fellow mercenary a jaunty wink. "I knew you wanted me," He yelped when Mao bounced her half-finished brew off of his head. "Ow. That hurt, Sis." Battered, but unbroken, he returned to his show-and-tell. "And who can resist steamed dumplings. Pumpkin Shrimp Pork dumpling… Sole Fish dumpling… Yellow Leek Pork dumpling…" His voice droned on, as he listed fried dumpling meals, home style pancakes and rolls, and a number of rice dishes. "Oh… and for Mao… Beer drenched rice…" He took one of Melissa's unopened beers out of the case… opened it… and poured it over one of the ubiquitous small cartons of white rice that were added to the order gratis. He tossed it to Melissa.

"Your death wish is about to come true-" Melissa elevated one heavily-booted foot. Instead of booting her teammate, she looked down at the carton. Feeling no shame, she began shoveling it inter her mouth. Waste not want not. Beer is beer.

"So-," Kurz turned his attention to Sousuke. "Are you busy working on the G-spot again." It was the umpteenth time he had made the same lame joke, but it made him smile each and every time. He eyed the stack of sketches that Sousuke had made on every type of paper he could find, including a coarse roll of Balinese toilet wipes.

"G-spot?" Al spoke with an inquisitive voice. "The Grafenburg spot, a supposed erogenous area of the vagina that when stimulated can lead to strong sexual arousal… powerful orgasms… and potential female ejaculation? Are you referring to _that_ G-spot?" There was a pregnant pause. "No. I must be mistaken. That cannot be. Lieutenant Mao has remarked on many occasions that you do cannot tell the difference between a vagina and a hole in the ground."

Kurz began choking. Food had gone down the wrong way.

"Fuck yeh," Mao exclaimed, before licking the remaining beer out of the rice box.

Sousuke sighed and closed his eyes. But, he found himself smiling. Miracle of miracles. The true treasure on the island was the opportunity to spend time with his friends. Not too many months earlier, he hadn't known if any of them had survived the business with Sophia, the Whisperer who had taken over Kaname Chidori's personality, trying to convince her to start up the TARTAROS device on Merida Island. Indeed, he had at one time felt certain that Kurz was dead, shot by his old teacher Caspar.

"You must mean Gee Period. As in an abbreviation for Gungir." Al sounded certain. He was incorrect. He was very bright, but far from perfect.

"Why did you choose the name Gungir, anyway, Sousuke." Kurz had meant to ask that many times before, but always ended up distracted one way or another. "Is it because it reminds you of Gundam." He chuckled, and waited for someone else to laugh at his clever comparison. "You know… giant robots in a military setting." He frowned. No one said a thing. "Robots without superpowers… using somewhat conventional but futuristic weapons and energy sources." Still no response. Sousuke had begun sampling multiple dishes, thinking that they might actually taste better than MREs. "Piloted by complex characters with moral conflicts and personal problems… you know, aimed mostly at young adults and not children. Or Mao." He knew that Sousuke was a closet otaku, just like Ben Clouseau.

"Al," Mao ricocheted a crushed beer can off of the A.I.s casing. "What I taught you."

"But-" the A.I. hesitated.

 **"NOW!"** Melissa slammed her foot down hard.

"Fuck You, Weber!" All of Al's lights flashed red after that for a minute or two. "I apologize, Sergeant." That was for Sousuke, not Kurz. The latter got no respect, from people or machine alike.

"I would prefer you not teach my partner that kind of thing." Sousuke did not fear Mao. She rarely showed her darker side to him. "He-" He never had a chance to complete his sentence.

"Al!" Mao tore the tab clear off of her next beer. "The other thing I taught you." She tapped out a staccato code on the side of the beverage can.

"I should not-" The A.I. tried to resist. But, he did not relish the thought of spilled beer dripping inside any of his orifices.

"I think I will fucking carve my name on you." Melissa stood up and unsheathed a wicked blade. "My _full_ fucking name. In Cantonese."

"Kaname and Sousuke sitting in a tree…." Al sounded frantic, if that was even possible. "F…U…C…K…I…"

"Emergency shutdown procedure A110110110…" Sousuke spoke before his mechanical partner could finish. The command would be obeyed without question and would be followed by an immediate reboot.

"So… while the Squawk Box wakes back up-" Kurz belched, without bothering to apologize. "Why _did_ you settle on Gungir for the ARX-9?"

"The ARX-8 was Laevatein, as you know." Sousuke thought momentarily about that A.S. and Arbalest before it. "Laevatein was a weapon in Norse mythology."

"And in Fire Emblem Heroes," Kurz tossed his hair and held out his hands, as if he were grasping a game controller. _"Pew! Pew! Pew!"_

"And Final Fantasy XI Online." Mao frowned when Kurz and Sousuke stared at her slack jawed. _"What?!_ I once went out with a guy, until I found out he was a gaming geek." She muttered under her breath "Assholes. Don't look at me like I play that shit."

"Well, before we were interrupted by Suzy Sunshine over there-" Kurz thumbed his hand towards Mao. "You were saying?"

"Gungir was one of the most powerful weapons in Norse mythology." Sousuke yawned. He hadn't slept much lately, having burned the candle at both ends trying to put as much of his personal stamp on the next state-of-the-art A.S. as he could before the Mithril engineers and manufacturers began taking hold of the reins. "It was Odin's spear. It never missed its mark."

"Just like _my_ spear…." Kurz stood up, striking a pose, making slow pelvic thrusts. " **Schwing-ggg-gg-g**!" That last was said in his best Mike Myer's Wayne's World imitation.

"You mean swizzle stick," Mao joked. "You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn… or a Pyongyang hooker… with that tiny toy…."

" _Bzzzz-zzz-zz-z_ … hooker…" That voice indicated that Al was back up and almost running. "Hooker… accessing… Hooker… a designation for prostitutes that some feel derived from the name of Union general Joseph Hooker of the American Civil War… but more likely comes from the concentration of prostitutes around the shipyards and ferry terminal of the Corlear's Hook area of Manhattan in the 1820s."

Not every door in the complex was loud. One had opened and closed very quietly, as evidence by the arrival of another member of Mythril.

"Hello everyone," Teletha Testarossa said with her usually perky smile. "What have I missed?"

"We were just discussing hookers," Al remarked.

"It's true," Kurz said slyly, wanting to see Tessa pink up. "Sousuke started it… talking about spears that never miss."

"That's right," Mao added, wanting in on the fun.

"I-" Sousuke looked like a deer caught in headlights. He shouldn't. He should be more than used to this routine by now.

"By spear we mean-" Melissa continued, only to leave things hanging, so to speak.

"I _know_ what you mean!" Tessa clenched her hands into fists, hard enough for fingernails to cut flesh.

"You do?" Kurz wore an ear-to-ear smile.

" **NO!** Tessa spoke louder than she had intended. She looked around hastily. Fortunately, the afternoon shift of technicians hadn't stumbled out of their dormitories yet. "Not in _that_ way," she said in a quiet strangled voice. To hastily change the subject, she pointed to the second unopened bag. "What's in there."

"This is especially for you," Kurz replied amiably, with a fond grin. "I know how much you like tea… _and_ desserts…" His smile deepened when he saw Tessa grin, and chuckled when he saw her put her hand on her abdomen, seemingly caught on the horns of a dilemma. "It's okay if you get a bit chubby. It makes boobies get bigger. Right, Sousuke?"

"Uhhh-" Sousuke almost wished that his friends would leave.

"Boobies," Al said out loud to itself. "Given the fact that this base is on an island, it could refer to Blue-Footed Boobies, the bird. It could also refer to foolish people. But, given Sergeant Weber's proclivities, it no doubt refers to a woman's breasts." The A.I. paused. "Captain Testarossa… is it your desire to have your breasts grow larger. If so, I can perform quality assessments on all plastic surgery practices in every continent. Unless you prefer natural remedies and-"

" _Shh!"_ Tessa shook her finger at Al. _"Shhh-hh-h!"_ She had initially thought to put her fingers in her ears, but that would be even more embarrassing that shushing a big box of circuits and wires.

Sousuke sighed. Now he almost wished that the A.I. could leave. "The bag…." He felt a twinge of concern. Could the bag be some kind of trick or trap? No. He was just being paranoid again. He had made great strides in reducing those kind of thoughts. No backsliding, now!

"Yes, back to the bag!" Tessa gave Sousuke a grateful wave of the hand. "And you… _Shush!"_ That was a preventive shush meant for Al. "Or, I'll have the technicians disconnect your voice emulator." That should last a little while, at least.

Al began blinking his lights in Morse code, trying to ask Sousuke if Tessa meant what she had said. Sousuke swiveled in his chair, putting the A.I. out of view.

After carefully taking out some disposable teacups and a large thermal tea flask, Kurz turned the large bag upside down. An avalanche of small plastic-wrapped items spilled onto the floor, forming a mini-mountain.

"Fortune cookies…." Tessa frowned. Those were far from the tastiest dessert that she could think of.

"Yeh, babe." Kurz held his hands out away from his body in an apologetic gesture. "Not the most yummy, but they go good with tea and they were the only thing that would survive the flight." There was a devilish sparkle in his eyes, which he carefully kept averted. "They are also a lot of fun."

"Shit!" Mao refrained from spitting. Barely. "Like a barrel of fucking monkeys."

The A.I.'s lights were blinking at record speed, but he did not voice his nagging question.

"Melissa… must we…." Tessa knew she would never get Mao to freshen up her vocabulary. But, she would somehow feel dirty herself if she didn't at least protest. She didn't want to be guilty by association. At least not in Sousuke's eyes.

"Ahhh, pardon me m'lady." Melissa put her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair. "I meant to say'a heard of humping hippos'." She would somehow feel less dirty if she didn't add fuel to the fire.

Tessa looked at Sousuke, without saying a word. She looked very much like a damsel in distress. Sousuke for his part, was a whiz at rescuing maidens. He would take a page out of Al's book, even though that was the thing that would make _him_ feel more dirty.

"Captain," Sousuke began. "You _do_ know where fortune cookies originated, do you not?"

"No," Tessa lied. "It would be kind of you to tell us." She glared over at Mao, daring her to derail this train of thought. She made it a point to stare at the case of beer. The action had clear meaning. She could do a historical reenactment of Prohibition at the secluded base, associated research facilities, and the TDD-1. She had done that exact thing on a previous occasion, when one of Mao's and Weber's little spats had caused expensive collateral damage.

Melissa farted. Even though she was of Chinese-American descent, she still got gassy eating Chinese food, even the best Chinese food. "Ooo-oops! My bad." It wasn't accidental. She almost shat herself forcing things out so hard. She couldn't curse at Tessa or give her the finger, not with that Dry County threat rolling around like unexploded ordinance.

"What crawled up your ass and died?!" Kurz wrinkled his nose. He felt like gagging, but couldn't help but grin when he saw the diminutive Captain waving her hands about, as if she were swatting at gnats or flies.

" **WARNING!"** Al had become vocal again. "I detect the odor of raw sewage. The cesspool system must be compromised. We should evacuate. Do you wish me to access the emergency alarm system?"

"Negative." Sousuke groaned. It was his turn to glare at the Lieutenant. She had awakened the sleeping dog. All good things come to an end. "Shut up!"

"It works better when you kick or punch someone," Mao added helpfully. "And add the word 'fuck' or some other choice words." She looked over at Tessa, in order to twist the verbal knife a tad more. "Hmmm," she looked off into space "Great! I don't detect any seepage…." That had Tessa making a picture-worthy face. "I hate it when I shart."

Sousuke looked over at Kurz. The wannabe lady's man looked as happy as a pig in shit; he loved Tessa and Mao like kin, but he treasured their little spats. He wouldn't be any help in defusing the situation. Urzu 7 was was on his own in this mission. He took up his narrative.

"In the distant past… the 13th or 14th century… China was occupied by the Mongols. There was an operative named Chu Yuan Chang…." He had meant to say _revolutionary_ , but old habits die hard. "He devised plans for a counter-strike against the Mongols." That time, the word should have been _uprising_ "In order to instruct all of the Chinese about the date of the operation, messages were hidden in ordinance designated 'Moon Cakes'." _Treats_ , not ordinance. "Moon Cakes contained a center of Lotus Paste, which the Mongols hated to eat. That center substance was replaced with rice paper messages, telling dates and locations of the counter terrorism. The mission was successful… the Mongols driven out… and the Ming Dynasty born."

"That's why there's a Moon Festival," Melissa added without any colorful additives. "And why there is a tradition of giving cakes with messages."

" **Incorrect!"** The A.I. was back at it. "Both the Sergeant and the Sergeant Major are incorrect. They are referencing a legend, probably started by Chinese 49'ers who worked on the construction of the great American Railways in the American west. During the time of the Moon Festival, which had began for entirely different reasons, the 49'ers did not have any moon cakes… only biscuits. So, out of necessity, they improvised and the Fortune Cookie was born.

"Incorrect!" Kurz aped Al's voice. This was choice, catching the machine in error. While ordering the food in America, he had spoken to the shop owner, and learned a great deal about fortune cookies. "Your data is in error. Do not pass Go. Proceed directly to Jail".

"Jail?" Al had played chess, but never Monopoly.

"You bet!" Kurz rubbed his hands together. "Hard beds. Bad food. Prison tats." He had never been imprisoned; rather, he was a fan of crime dramas. "Oh… and remember one thing… don't drop the soap."

"Soap?" The A.I. queried.

Sousuke reached into the desk drawer again. From beneath a tangle of sharpened yellow No. 2 pencils he removed a holster. He took out a well-worn pistol and placed it on the desk top. It was not a threat. He mere wanted to make a point.

"There are a lot of possibilities about the modern origin of fortune cookies," Kurz said with a sour lisp. Sousuke was always such a party pooper. "One thing _is_ certain… as far back as the 19th century, a cookie very similar in appearance to the modern fortune cookie was made in Kyoto. And, there was a temple tradition of random fortunes, called omikuji. The Japanese version of the cookie looked and tasted different, but _did_ come with a fortune; the slip of paper was wedged into the bend of the cookie rather than placed inside the hollow portion. That kind of cookie is still called _tsujiura senbei_ today."

"Fascinating," Tessa remarked. She truly _did_ relish any sort of new information, but was not about to let Kurz know that. "Truly amazing. You _do_ know that light travels faster than sound, right?"

"Huh?" Kurz didn't know why Tessa brought up that fact.

"That fact serves as the is the scientific explanation as to why people appear brilliant... until you hear what they have to say." She needed to show Kurz that she wasn't just a nerdy wallflower. This was her way of getting in the game. She smiled when Melissa gave her a thumbs up.

"Please continue, Sergeant Weber" That request came from Al. He was updating his fact files.

" _One."_ It was Kurz who held up a single finger this time. "Makoto Hagiwara of Golden Gate Park's Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco is reported to have been the first person in the U.S. to have served the modern version of the fortune cookie in the 1890s or early 1900s." Kurz looked down at a piece of paper held inconspicuously in his cupped hand. He had scribbled down everything he had been told by the person running the counter at the noodle shop. _"Two-"_ He held up a second finger.

"I direct your attention to Sergeant Weber, Sergeant." Al spoke directly to Sousuke. "He may prove to be an adequate instructor for you in this way: he knows how to do the finger counting method properly." His optical sensors had been focused on the small group of mercenaries the entire time.

"A competing claim was once made by David Jung," Kurz continued. "The founder of the Hong Kong Noodle Company in Los Angeles said that _he_ invented the cookie in 1918."

"Found it!" Al vibrated with excitement. "Wikipedia!" If he had legs, he would do a victory dance. "To elucidate further, The Court of Historical Review in San Fransico attempted to settle the dueling claims in 1983. During the proceedings, a fortune cookie was introduced as a key piece of evidence. The-"

"Yeh yeh," Kurz was not about to be upstaged by a bucket of bolts. "That famous cookie contained a paper message that read 'S.F. Judge who rules for L.A. Not Very Smart Cookie'. A federal judge of the Court of Historical Review determined that the cookie originated with Hagiwara. The city of Los Angeles condemned the decision."

"Three. There was another competing claim," Al put in. He was not about to be trumped by a meat puppet. "Seiichi Kito, the founder of Fugetsu-do of Little Tokyo in Los Angeles, also claimed to be the inventor the cookie. He had gotten the idea from the Japanese tsujiura senbei. In addition, he sold his cookies to Chinese restaurants. That started a trend that continues today."

"Anyone can browse through Wikipedia," Kurz remarked. He looked down at the paper again. "Up to the time of World War II, fortune cookies were known as fortune tea cakes, probably because of their Japanese origin. They moved from being a treat dominated by Japanese-Americans to one dominated by Chinese-Americans around the time of that war. Because-" This time it was not the A.I. who chimed in. It was Tessa.

"I can guess!" Tessa said. "Japanese American internment during World War II. That put over 100,000 Japanese-Americans in internment camps. And-"

"And," Melissa made her own guess, bursting Tessa's bubble. "That probably included all of the people making the fucking cookie. And, bingo bango bongo, that was an opportunity for savvy Chinese manufacturers." She thumbed her chest, feeling a strange twinge of pride.

Everybody remained silent for a few moments. The conversation had become way too historical. And, the thought of the travesty of internment camps soured everyone's mood. Even Al held his tongue, in a manner of speaking. He had been about to comment on the modern tradition of the iconic aphorisms found on fortune cookie messages, and why some paper strips also contained a series of numbers.

"Now for the good part!" Kurz could never stay down for too long. Besides, he had gone to a great deal of trouble working up to this moment. It was good fortune that Tessa had shown up just at the perfect moment. Good fortune, indeed! "Here-" He tossed cookies to everyone and dropped a fair number on his own lap. "Let's check some messages…." He cracked one open. "The early bird gets the worm… but the second mouse gets the cheese."

"I understand!" Al exclaimed

"I've always liked that saying," Tessa claimed. "Let's see…courage is not just one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point."

"Hmmm-" Sousuke pondered that message. It was a bit obtuse, but actually made good sense. Were there _other_ useful statements hidden within the cookies? He split one apart and spoke what he read. "A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not why ships are built."

"That's right!" Tessa clapped her hands. Of course she would like that one. She explored another cookie. "The wise man is the one who makes you think he is dumb."

"Hah!" Mao slapped her knee. "That makes Weber a fucking genius!"

"You're just jealous, Sis." Kurz followed that with a quote he remembered from a past cookie, not from one in the day's batch. "He who throws mud loses ground."

"That was a joke" Al could think faster than any of human. His exclamation defused an imminent reply from Mao. "Please read more!"

"Your turn Sis," Kurz said. "Don't be afraid. It's okay to learn things." He made the okay sign with his hand.

"It's okay to lose things, too!" Melissa made a hand job gesture with her hand, and then made a quick swipe with her knife, severing an imaginary male organ.

"Melissa!" Tessa was about to scold her friend, but knew that her tongue-lashing would have no effect. Instead, she made her eyes look large and plaintive and simply said "Please."

"Shit! I hate it when she does that!" Like all of them there, she was very fond of the young Captain. With overly exaggerated bravado she broke a cookie against her forehead and retrieved the paper inside. "If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain." So true. As members of the once and future Mithril, each and everyone there could identify with that fortune.

"Yes," Tessa agreed. "That's very true. And thanks to you all-" Her voice broke. She suddenly felt a tidal wave of emotion overcome her. Their lives had not been easy ones. Then, for some reason, she thought of her late brother. Mental pictures from her childhood inexplicably gave way to images of Gail McAllen, Urzu1, and Spec, Urzu 8, and other deceased members of the SRT. So many different unrelated memories began crowding her consciousness.

Kurz acted quickly to rescue the mood. He wasn't being kind or thoughtful. Rather, he had no intention of allowing his scheme die on the vine! "The usefulness of a cup is in its emptiness." He smiled. "Al. Your turn."

"But Sergeant-" Al sounded flustered. "Lacking appendages, I cannot open cookies-"

"Here." Sousuke didn't want the A.I. to fry any circuits. He opened a cookie, after giving Kurz a 'don't tease the machine' look. "Change can hurt, but it leads a path to something better." Once again, he marveled at the power of a simple piece of parchment. Fortune cookie message may seem like trivial nonsense to many diners, but they sometimes had deep messages about life.

"Confucius says," the young Captain began reading her next message. "Go to bed with itchy bum, wake up with stinky finger."

"Hah hah hah!" Melissa snorted, spitting out beer she had begun to chug. "Tessa! Your face." She opened a cookie, hoping to find another low brow winner. "Help! I'm being held prisoner in a Chinese bakery!"

"Sergeant!" Al said urgently. "How will we determine the coordinates for a rescue mission? How will we discover the identity of the kidnappers? How-"

"That was a joke too, Al." Sousuke had everyone's sympathy. "We are not a Police force. Also, don't take everything personally." The machine had learned a lot from the day it had first been assembled; but, it was still very much a work in progress. "Perhaps-" He hoped to begin a string of wiser sayings. His hopes were dashed when he opened another cookie. "The fortune you seek is in another cookie."

"Love it," Kurz said looking down at the message paper in his hand. "Never tease an armed midget with a high five." He looked thoughtful. "I learned that the hard way, once." He smiled, an evil thought coming to mid. "I didn't mean _you_ Sis. I would have said mental midget." He fell out of his chair, barely dodging a missile masquerading as a beer can, a trail of froth streaming out in its wake.

"How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges." Tessa read a message, acting to break the sudden tension. "No. Let me try again." She had noticed the look of disappointment on Sousuke's face. "That wasn't chicken you just ate." She shrugged. Another goofy one. "Sorry." She wasn't a quitter. She tried a third cookie. "If a turtle loses it shell, is it naked or homeless?" Geez. Who writes this drivel?!

"This paper is not edible," Mao read, watching Sousuke hang his head.

Kurz had a big heart, a fact that his flippant behavior often obscured. The cookies were color coded. Some were clever. Some were ludicrous. And some had a special secret inside. He tossed a clever one to Sousuke. "I bet you _that_ will be a good one."

"I-" For some reason, Sousuke hesitated. Why was he feeling so emotionally involved with such an unimportant game?

"Please read the writings, Sergeant." Al pleaded. "It is fatal to enter a war without the will to win it." The quote was from Douglas MacAuthur. Perhaps the machine had learned too much from Sousuke.

"That-"Sousuke frowned. Opening the cookies was not a war. Nor was it a game, really. It was simply a cheerful diversion amongst friends who could very much use a good diversion. "Land is always on the mind of a flying bird." He searched for a personal parallel to that saying. In the meantime, Melissa pulled out another message, and called it out in a bored voice before setting it on fire with the tip of a freshly lit cigarette.

"No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible," Mao said. "That one sucks."

"No." Tessa contradicted her friend. "That's rather insightful. I hope this one will be too." She jumped when Mao let fly with a long window-rattling burp. "We can't control the wind, but we can always adjust the sails."

"Shit!" Kurz looked over at Melissa, who was popping open another beer. "We sure as hell can't control Sis' wind." He chuckled when the SRT's second-in-command made an obscene gesture. Time for another cookie. "Hmmm. We seem to be having a nautical theme today. 'A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner'."

At the request of the A.I., Sousuke tried his hand at another fortune. "The best way to get rid of an enemy is to make a friend."

"Horseshit," Mao said forcefully. "The best way is a knife across the throat."

"Or a bullet to the head-" Kurz prodded his left temple area. "That new-age hippy dippy stuff never really works. It's not like this is a manga or anime, right Sanoske."

Kurz knew that Sousuke was a big-time fan of _Rurouni Kenshin_. He thought that it was a wonderful coincidence, the fact that the brawler's full name was Sagara Sanuske… and that the weapons master in the story…Himura Kenshin… had an X-shaped scar on his left facial cheek. The swordsman had once been a killing machine, but had later changed his ways.

"It would be nice if it _did_ work," Sousuke said emphatically. He was extremely good at what he did. But, that didn't mean he wanted to keep tempering himself in forge and fire forever. He hoped that he wouldn't end up like Kenshin, pulled into a series of battles despite his new found pacifist leanings. "It might be nice to be a pacifist…." That was not him. He was no pacifist. Not yet. But, Kaname was working on him. Who knows what the future might hold.

"Time for the double tap," Kurz said, referring to the fact that he was doing two turns in a row, and two cookies this time. "I feel a good one coming on-" He blew on his fingers, and then rolled the cookies across the floor like he was shooting dice at a Craps table. One cookie bounced too close to Mao. She ground it into the floor like she was putting out a cigarette. Kurz opened the survior… a cookie he had been hiding up one sleeve.

"Whenever and wherever possible-" Kurz was always troublemaker and eternally an optimist. "Make hot and passionate love with a teammate of the opposite sex. Oh yeh!

"That's a great idea!" Mao pointed a finger at Kurz. As soon as an eager look decorated his smug face, she added "Remember what I once told you Sousuke?"

Kurz silently mouthed 'Me… no, me.'

"I-" Sousuke clamped his mouth shut. Nothing came to mind. But, he predicted some kind of sexual innuendo.

"I gave you permission to jump Tessa's bones!" Mao had indeed said that. "I hope you still keep condoms in your combat kit."

"-" Tessa stood up abruptly, unable to get a word out at first. "Melissa!"

There was a blinding explosion of light and sound, stunning the group of them. Sousuke had thrown a flash-bang. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

For a short while longer, the companions opened cookies that Kurz tossed them, until they were nearly weary of the entertainment. Nearly weary to the point that their defenses were down. The messages came rapid fire, like a stream of bullets with white paper tracers, as the discarded contents littered the floor:

' _The greatest risk is not taking one.'_

' _Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.'_

' _Hard work pays off in the future, laziness pays off now.'_

' _If you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.'_

' _One that would have the fruit must climb the tree.'_

' _People learn little from success, but much from failure.'_

" _It takes more than a good memory to have good memories.'_

" _A closed mouth gathers no feet.'_

And so forth and so on.

Al became so enamored with his recording of the messages, that he offered up his services, in part to gain favor in the eyes of his partner. "I have learned many things from Sergeant Sagara. Perhaps I should print them out and have the cook put them in cakes, cookies, or biscuits."

"That-"Kurz didn't want the A.I. to usurp his Golden Opportunity. The machine could easily fracture the mood, just when he had everyone weakened, ripe for his clever crescendo. He had already done way too much work for such a short but memorable payoff.

"For example," Al continued, rattling off a series of quotes he had learned from Sousuke:

"Retreat? Hell, we just got here!" _Marine Captain Lloyd Williams, answering a messenger from the French Commander as Marines arrive at the Belleau Wood sector in WWI._

"You don't go into battle to die for your country. You go into battle to make the other bastard die for his country." _General George S. Patton, Jr., speaking to troops in 1941_.

"Those who stand for nothing fall for anything." _Alexander Hamilton._

"I am not afraid of an Army of lions lead by a sheep; I am afraid of sheep lead by a lion." _Alexander the Great._

"Soldiers generally win battles; generals get credit for them." _Napoleon Bonaparte._

"Ten soldiers lead wisely will beat a hundred without a head." _Euripides_.

"In the absence of orders, go find something and kill it." _Field Marshall Erwin Rommel_.

"Enough already!" Kurz blurted things out. He forced himself to smile and keep his cool. Not usually the hothead in the group, he had wanted to segue into the end game in some suave and swanky way, but couldn't risk any more loss of momentum. "I mean… it's time for the pièce de résistance… something I did especially for our somber hero." Everybody knew he meant Sousuke.

"It will be something FUBAR." Melissa knew Kurz. She knew that Kurz knew Sousuke. And she was well aware that he knew Tessa's nature all too well for anybody's good. "Or some big SNAFU." If by chance it gave her a chance to laugh, she would give the gloating sniper a beer. If the prank went too far, she would give him something much more personal, and a good bit more painful.

"O ye of little faith, Kurz said. "My cleverness… and my rugged handsomeness… are the best part of me."

"Bullshit," Mao said, flicking a lit cigarette towards Weber. "The best part of you ran down your mother's crack and ended up as a brown stain on her mattress." That was classic Mao. The writers of Full Metal Jacket should have paid her royalties. "And… you're so ugly, you could be a modern masterpiece."

"Not this model." Kurz stood up. "I saved the best ones for last." He walked over to each of his friends, pouring red-wrapped cookies into the laps. He even dropped one on top of Al. He didn't say a single word more, as he waited for everyone's curiosity to take command. Sousuke was the first fly to step out onto the web.

"Let us see-" Sousuke was too tired to be suspicious. Regardless, he should have known better. So should Tessa, who cradling an armful of cookies strolled over to look at Sousuke's prize. "I hope it's something insightful or revealing…."

Revealing was the perfect word.

Sousuke pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded many times over, with a much larger surface area than he would have guessed. He unfolded it completely, and promptly began to sweat heavily, hand twitching.

"Wh-wh-wh- _what_ -" Tessa sounded breathless. She had good reason to be shocked. Shocked, embarrassed, and furious all rolled up into one blur of emotion. She snatched the paper from Sousuke. **"Don't look!"** This was far worse than the time that Kurz had attempted to auction off her underwear aboard the TDD-1.

"Let me see that!" Melissa brusquely knocked Kurz aside, spun around Sousuke with an assassin's grace, and pulled the paper from Tessa's limp grasp. "Clever man," she said to Kurz sarcastically. She began cracking open the other 'special' cookies. Each paper was similar in concept, if different and unique in application.

"Y-yy-yyyou-" Tessa was flabbergasted. She had turned so red in the face, that she looked like a human tomato.

"Uhhh-hh-h-" Sousuke forgot his name.

It is amazing what good printer can print. And it is equally amazing what a talented photo tech can do with PhotoShop. For example, a picture of a young woman's face can be digitally added to someone or something else. Old pinups, perhaps. Or, Playboy and Penthouse centerfolds.

Almost every glossy piece of paper displayed the body of a scantily clad or naked woman with Tessa's face, posing prettily or striking a very naughty pose. Some pieces showed pictures of the diminutive Captain in a white bikini. A rare few showed snapshots taken of her in the TDD-l women's shower or the sanctity of her private cabin. It's amazing how small and inconspicuous some SpyCams are.

"Dead man!" Melissa began growling, sounding like a tigress with a bad belly ache. The make believe photos had been funny. The nudies crossed the line big time. With each stalker photo she looked at and ripped into countless pieces, her defense readiness condition advanced. She quickly moved from DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 1. In U.S. military parlance, DEFCON 1 meant that nuclear war was imminent. The U.S. itself had only gotten as far as DEFCON 2, for the Cuban Missile Crisis. "You slimy fucking _walrus_ -looking piece of shit," she said inaudibly, eyes narrowing. She had just realized something. If Kurz had inappropriate pictures of Tessa, he could just as easily have reams of photos of any and all female personnel, herself included. She might even be his top target!

"I agree!" Tessa's eyes flashed. "Right now, he is certainly dead to me."

"I don't-"Kurz began backpedaling quickly, looking for the nearest avenue of escape. His attention was drawn to one particular door. That one was a no go. It was the door that a group of men in labcoats and hard hats were walking through. The technicians, engineers, support staff, and custodians were reporting for duty. "Don't make me get mad…." He didn't mean angry. He was referring to Mutually Assured Destruction. He wouldn't be the only one going down.

Mao simply rolled up her sleeves and began walking towards Weber. Tessa folded her arms across he chest and harumphed.

"Hey guys!" Kurz put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, getting the attention of the numerous newcomers. "He reached down, picked up a carton of food, and waved it above his head. "We have leftover Chinese… and I don't mean Mao…." He deftly dodged Melissa's first strike. "And we have cookies… lots of cookies…"

"Gah-"Tessa froze. She then sprang into frantic action. Looking over at Sousuke, she mouthed 'help me,' but he stood shocked, failing to understand her plea. Left to her own devices, she unbuttoned a few buttons on her blouse, and began stuffing the remaining fortune cookies inside. She intended to gather and destroy each and every one.

As Kurz and Melissa continued their violent and agile ballet, fists thrown and legs dodged, Tessa scrambled about the floor on hands and knees, filling her shirt more and more, almost to the point of bursting.

"Are you trying to make your breasts bigger, Captain" Al was as observant as always. Observant, and naively mistaken. "We were discussing that earlier…."

" _Eep_ -" Tessa squeaked like a mouse. She began to run, making her way out of the work area. With each step, cookie wrappers popped. Someone walking into the area might think there was a movie popcorn machine in operation.

"Sergeant, should I continue filming this?" Al's question caught Sousuke off guard.

"What?" Sousuke ran over to the A.I. unit and covered the from optical ports with both hands. "Clarify! What do you mean by continue?"

"The persistence of an activity or process," Al answered dutifully.

"I know that!" Sousuke was oblivious to the terrible beating that Kurz found himself on the receiving end of. This was important. The A.I. was his responsibility. Kurz had to face his own consequences. "I mean… what are you continuing…."

"Recording the events," Al replied. "In high resolution. Quite adequate for playback, or good quality prints." The machine swiveled a third optical hookup and pointed it towards Tessa, who had fallen and was wobbling back and forth on her abdomen like a turtle on its back. "If I may… would you please move your hands. The angle is not perfect."

"Negative!" Sousuke grimaced. "Negative… negative… negative." He blinked rapidly for a moment or two. The sounds that a bloodthirsty Mao was making had him thinking of a Native American scalping party. He had once given Al permission to record anything that caught his interest, thinking that such a thing would help his growth and his understanding of the human world. He hated being an Indian Giver, but he had never imagined this type of situation. No, that's not entirely true. He simply hadn't put two and two together.

"Why? Are my actions inappropriate?" The A.I. stopped filming and retracted vision system couplings.

"Very," Sousuke replied. "You are violating Tessa's… I mean Captain Testarossa's… privacy, and could cause her great embarrassment and psychological trauma. Research it. Read a treatise on human emotion and every book you can find on manners and appropriate social behavior. Report your findings to me in one week's time." The results of the machine's studies might benefit himself. He was far from socially adept. Very far. "And-" He rubbed his chin, trying to grab hold of a thought just at the edge of his mind,

"Sergeant?" Al waited further instructions.

"Did Sergeant Weber ever request photographic materials?" Sousuke had a strong suspicion.

"Affirmative," the A.I. replied.

"Here is an order. You will obey, or I will have you disassembled." Sousuke was adamant. "You will deny all requests and orders from Sergeant Weber, granting his wishes only at my approval. Further, you will erase all photographs that you took for him, if any."

"Question," Al said. "Would that include material that _he_ gave _me_? For example, the candid photograph of a disrobed Sgt. Major Mao and a banana. Sergeant Weber said that snapshot was necessary for the Mithril Christmas Calendar." Kurz had transferred a number of SpyCam photos to Al for safe-keeping, and to serve as a veritable antipersonnel mine for Sousuke some day, if he somehow triggered an unexpected response from the A.I. He had bribed an engineer and learned Al's WiFi codes.

"Everything means everything! Sousuke now had an image in his head that he couldn't erase. If Kaname or Tessa could read his mind, he would be dead meat. He suddenly realized that everything was quiet. That could mean that the hostilities were over, or that one or both of his friends were dead or incapacitated. He walked over to push his way past a ring of base personnel who had stopped what they were doing to watch the all too common 'Mao and Weber show'.

Both A.S. pilots stood about ten meters apart, hands on their kness, breathing in deep ragged breaths, near totally exhausted. It looked like Kutrz would indeed live to see another day. He didn't look too worse for wear, all things considered. But, Kurz being Kurz, he just couldn't stop. He smiled an evil smile as he watched Mao walk over to help Tessa up.

"Hey, Tessa. I have a question for you." Kurz paused, feeling a tooth wobble when he pushed against it with his tongue.

Sousuke walked back to his desk… removed a clip of 9x19mm cartridges from his Glock 26… and replaced them with rubber bullets. He considered shooting Kurz, to quiet him before he ended up with some truly serious injury. He hesitated. That made his dilemma moot.

"Do you know which candy was named after sex with an under-aged virgin?" Kurz didn't wait for her to answer. "A Lolli pop." He snickered, seeing his victim freeze and fall over again. He was a sniper, and he didn't always trust one bullet to do the deed. He'd put one in the figurative corpse just to be sure of his kill. "Cherry, of course." Yes, he adored Tessa, but that 'speed of light'quip had left him a bit more miffed that he initially thought.

"Just like the Scorpion and the Frog," Sousuke said. He watched as Mao shouted incoherent obscenities and resumed her chase. However, this time she wasn't intent on doing things on foot. After having grabbed a large wrench used on the M9 series A.S., she pushed an unwary janitor off of a large teal Tennant M30 Rider Sweeper Scrubber and jumped in the saddle herself. She worked a switch. A 62-inch scrubbing brush began spinning at 480 rpm. Rear and side squeegees scraped across the floor as she gunned the two ton machine.

"Sergeant?" Al's question was obvious.

"'The Scorpion and the Frog' was fable by a man name Aesop," Sousuke replied.

"Searching," the A.I. said. "A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, 'How do I know you won't sting me?' The scorpion says, 'Because if I do, I will die too'."

"A correct tactical and strategic conclusion," Sousuke remarked. "The logic satisfied the frog. The two set out. However, in midstream, the scorpion prompted a mission failure by stinging the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing that they both will drown. He had just enough time to gasp 'Why?'" He looked over at a shouting Kurz. The base personnel still encircled the open floor area. They were all very fond of Tessa. No one would let Urzu 6 pass. "The scorpion replied… 'it's my nature..."

"It's time to wager, boys!" Holding the steering wheel so tightly that her hands were turning scarlet, Mao shouted out to the crowd. "Who wants to bet that I can fit this floor cleaner up Weber's scrawny ass?!" She couldn't get her ride past 8mph, but she had no worry. Two burly guards held her teammate by his arms. "Kurz! You better square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany earrings, or I will definitely fuck you up."

"Melissa!" Tessa called out. Everyone within earshot expected her to order Mao to stop what she was doing. Not a few jaws dropped, moments after the TDD-1's Captain finished saying her piece. "Make sure you clean his teeth, too. He has a dirty mouth!" Applause rang out.

" _Me?!"_ Kurz eyed an advancing Mao like a fly watches an approaching spider. Or, a nail watches an approaching hammer! He looked over at Tessa. "Have you been listening, Tessa? Mao has the dirtiest mouth ever!" He switched his gaze to Mao again. "I mean… not that there's anything wrong with that. Come on Sis, let's kiss and make up… "

"Hah. Fat fucking chance." Melissa said, before chuckling evilly. "On second thought, I'll give you a kiss, alright. No, I'll give you more. You should give this girl here a name-" She smacked the floor scrubber on the side. "Because she is the only pussy you're _ever_ gonna get. Your days of finger-banging good ole Mary Rottencrotch through her pretty pink panties are over."

Sousuke turned away, not wanting to see what might transpire, and feeling a bit too nostalgic about Melissa's language. It brought back memories of Mithril boot camp. He looked at his watch. He needed to head back to his barracks. He needed to shave, shower, and otherwise freshen up. He began jogging double time. Soon thereafter, he began to forget all about the events he had recently experienced.

He should have been more cautious.

The young A.S. maestro knew that there were parallels between humans and animals. In fact, he had read an article about Matabale ants the week before. That type of ant sends out scouts, before launching daily raids against termites. When their battles are over, they carry their injured comrades back to base, where they clean wounds and apply natural antibiotics to prevent infections, triaging the cases based on the level of injury. But, he had forgotten another parallel. Wounded animals are often the more dangerous, and sometimes strike out at any convenient animal target, not just their attackers and tormentors.

At a later time, at the same exact moment that a cheerful Sousuke was laying out a clean uniform and began debating what cologne to apply in modest quantity, a rather wet and scuffed-up Kurz slowly pulled himself across the floor, one arm scratched from wrist to elbow, and one leg dragging useless behind him. Each pull of his good arm and kick of his good leg was accompanied by a groan or gasp.

"It's like a damn Greek tragedy" Kurz tried to say. "I'm like Jason… or Hercules… not the Disney or Dwayne Johnson ones." The original Greek tragedies were plays in which the protagonist, usually a person of importance and outstanding personal qualities, falls to disaster through the combination of personal failings and circumstances he cannot overcome.

Kurz himself was more like something out of Norse mythology. The drinking horn of Utgarde could not be drained. Kurz Weber had a thirst for mischief that could never be quenched. If he could identify any legendary figure from any mythos, it would be Loki.

He made his way to a part of the hangar area that had not been renovated yet.

When the bedraggled mercenary finally reached his chosen destination-a part of the hangar area that had not been renovated-Kurz pried a particular brick from its place in a dilapidated wall. He reached into a dark cavity and removed a carefully wrapped package. Stuffing it inside of his shredded buttonless shirt, he turned about and headed for his next target. Earlier in the day, he had decided to cancel this final jibe because of a sense of comradery and an uncharacteristic Grinch-like make-over. His heart hadn't grown. It had been his conscience.

"It's back on!" That's what he tried to say, with swollen gums. It sounded more like 'Ishbeckon'. A certain principle plucked his brain-strings: what goes around comes around. "You should have helped me, Sousuke my friend."

His witnessed beating had wiped out all of his previous victories for that day. He needed at least one win before he reported to the medical building and passed out. There was a way that he could get that win, and enjoy some revenge too. Yes, he could kill two birds with one stone. "Shit." Wrong choice of words.

After Melissa had roughed him up in in a mechanical way, she grabbed a Desert Eagle that Sousuke had stashed away. She shot Kurz in a place where no man wants to be shot, saying "I'm going to kill two stones with one bird." He would have to write Lady Luck a thank you note some day. The gun had been loaded with rubber bullets, not the usual .50 Action Express rounds.

Kurz made his way to the drop zone, so to speak. He unleashed his full load of high jinks, waved his wings in victory, and made his way towards safer skies.

A few minutes later, an energetic young woman dressed in well-tailored clothing… carrying an old woman-type satchel draped with young girl-type keychains… made her way into the facility. Not seeing any familiar faces, she decided to place the contents of the carry bag in a coded safe at her boyfriend's work station.

The bag contained plans for the improved Fairy Feather destined for the ARX-9. The keychains were baubles she had collected with cherished high school friends after graduation. The blue-haired girl was Kaname Chidori.

"I can't wait to see Sousuke," Kaname smiled, heart beating ever quicker. Her anticipation was short-lived. She froze shortly after resting the jangling satchel on her beau's desk top. Her face grew warm. She made fists with her hands. If she were a cartoon character, steam would come rushing from her ears.

There would be hell to pay… with compound interest and maybe compound fractures. Kurz had used bloody chewing gum taken from his bleeding mouth to stick a number of pictures onto the enclosure surrounding Sousuke's desk.

The pictures were of Tessa. Naturally, they were copies of the ones that were placed inside of the fortune cookies.

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This is what the Urban Dictionary has to say about the phrase That's How The Cookie Crumbles:

 _Slang term, origin unknown from the 1920's in America. Used to underline a failure of an action, or disappointment in reaching an undesired result, with the additional meaning that the result was not an unexpected one._


End file.
